Parent-Teacher Meeting
by DolbyDigital
Summary: "I don't know, I haven't-" Hermione began to skim through the letter, trailing off as the words registered. "Mum, is this a joke?"


"Mum? What's this?" Hermione asked, holding the heavy envelope up for her mother to see.

"I don't know. It's addressed to you, dear." Hermione frowned, looking down at the yellowed paper, the neat calligraphy spelling out her name and address. She turned it over, tracing her finger over the red wax seal - she'd never seen a proper wax seal before; she hadn't realised people even still used them.

She pushed her thumb underneath it, being very careful not to break the wax. It cracked a little, but she supposed it was the best she could have hoped for.

Inside were two sheets of a thick paper, a kind she'd never seen before. This letter was already incredibly strange, and she hadn't even read it yet.

"Well? What does it say?" Her mother turned around from the sink, where she was elbow deep in soap suds, and faced Hermione.

"I don't know, I haven't-" Hermione began to skim through the letter, trailing off as the words registered. "Mum, is this a joke?"

"What?"

"You wrote this, didn't you?"

"No, Hermione, I- Why? What does it say?"

"Something about pig warts, or-" She checked the letter again. "No, Hogwarts. And magic and owls and a load of other nonsense."

"You're eleven, Hermione," her mother sighed. "Why should magic be nonsense?"

"Because it's not real. Why should my age change that?"

There was a loud know at the door which reverberated through the small house and effectively put a stop to their conversation.

"Wait here." Her mother peeled off her yellow rubber gloves, leaving them folded in half next to the sink, and went to answer the door. Hermione waited a couple seconds before following.

She could see her mother talking to a man with greasy black hair wearing strange clothing, all black, that looked like it might fit in better on a scholar from the past. She couldn't see his face or properly hear his words, but she could detect tones of annoyance in his voice, like he'd rather not be there.

Her mother ushered the man into their house, directing him towards the kitchen.

Hermione could see his features clearly now; his face was dominated by a hooked nose, and his sharp black eyes looked cruel as they surveyed the room in distaste.

"Can I take your… coat?" Hermione's mother asked, and the man unfastened the clasp on his cloak wordlessly, handing it to her without really looking at her.

"Hello, Mister…" Hermione trailed off, hoping that he might tell her his name if she hinted slightly.

"Hmm," he intoned, staring at her scornfully before turning back to her mother.

"So, Mister Snape," Hermione's mother spoke up quickly. "You were speaking about Hermione's letter?"

"Yes, I'm here to escort you to Diagon Alley." He still wasn't looking at them, and it was clear that he didn't particularly want to be there.

"I'm afraid I don't understand. Diagonally is a place?" Her mother asked, looking increasingly worried at this strange man's presence at their kitchen table.

"Diagon _Alley_ ," he stressed. "It's where Miss Granger will need to purchase her school supplies.

"Oh. So where is this place?"

"London."

"London? Isn't there anywhere closer?"

"No," he snapped, patience clearly growing thin.

"Well… my husband should be home soon. Maybe then we could discuss-"

"I will be back tomorrow." He rose suddenly, grabbing his cloak which Hermione's mother still clutched in her hands. "I expect you to be ready when I leave.

He left in a swirl of black fabric, leaving both mother and daughter standing, bemused, in the kitchen.

* * *

"Severus? Back already?" Albus fell into step beside him, seemingly from out of nowhere.

"They were most… disagreeable," he replied, keeping his words monotone.

"You explained everything, I gather?" Albus asked.

"The girl received her letter. I assumed she could read."

Albus sighed, falling behind as Severus picked up his pace. Perhaps sending the man off to speak with some of the new Muggle-born students had been a mistake.

* * *

"Hello," a stout woman greeted Mr. Granger cheerfully as soon as he had opened the door, pointed hat balanced precariously on her head.

"He-llo," he drew out the word, perplexed, taking in her strange attire - similar, but not quite as imposing, as those of the man his wife and daughter had described.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mister Granger." She held out her hand, and he found himself shaking it before he'd fully registered what was happening. Dirt was embedded into the lines of her palm and underneath her fingernails. "Can I come in?"

"Umm," was his not so eloquent reply.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Pamona Sprout. I'll be one of your daughters teachers come September." He stepped aside as she spoke, still baffled by her presence but thankful that the man his wife and daughter had described hadn't turned up again.

"Pleasure," he murmured absently.

"Lovely place you've got here." She was either deliberately ignoring his discomfort, or was completely oblivious.

"You said you would be one of Hermione's teachers. What subject would that be?" he asked.

"Herbology." _What kind of school did they want him to send his daughter to?_ he wondered, vaguely horrified at the notion.

"Herbology?" he repeated weakly.

"Yes, you know - rare plants." His eyes widened at the prospect - and to think, his wife was _excited_ about the prospect of sending their daughter to this school!

"I gather Professor Snape didn't tell you much?" she asked, stepping around him and entering the kitchen.

"Hello, Miss Granger," he heard her say to his daughter.

He needed to sit down.


End file.
